


trouble's always gonna find me someway

by Miralana



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Age Difference, Light BDSM, M/M, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 08:27:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8616784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miralana/pseuds/Miralana
Summary: Freedom, Credence realises soon after, is overrated.





	

**Author's Note:**

> if you're being affected by gaslighting, this might not be your fic. it's only minor and it's mostly internalised, but it's still there.
> 
> premise: newt managed to contain the obscurus inside credence before the macusa arrived. graves took credence and fled the city, hoping to harness the power inside of him at some point in the future.

When Credence had met Mr Graves for the first time, he had promised him everything he had always wanted. Safety. Independence. Freedom.

 

Freedom, Credence realises soon after, is overrated.

 

The world was a cruel place that took advantage of you as soon as you let it. There wasn’t any mercy among the people, nor the kindness he had always enjoyed reading about in the bible. Only the harsh reality of what it meant to be responsible for your own life.

There was no difference in that regard, between non-maj’s and wizards.

 

**I.**

“Back already?” Mr Graves asked, when Credence rubbed the necklace that was hidden under his chest. They might not be in New York anymore, Mr Graves had explained, but people would still recognise the sign. Credence still wasn’t sure what exactly it was, but that belonged to the things Mr Graves would explain to him when he was ready.

“I don’t know what to do with myself,” he admitted. He had magic now, bound inside him by the English wizard Newt Scamander, before Mr Graves had taken him away, but he lacked… guidance.

“Didn’t I tell you to learn about our world? There’s no need for a wizard who doesn’t know his roots, in this world that I’m going to create.”

Credence looks down, embarrassment burning in his cheeks. “I have my books with me. I was wondering…” he trails off. He is getting more used to being out-spoken, out of sheer necessity, but he still struggles with telling Mr Graves what he wants. Not even being disappointed and nearly killing him that night has given him the confidence he needs.

“Credence,” Mr Graves says, his eyebrows turning upwards annoyed.

“Could I … maybe … read at your place?”

“Don’t you think I have anything better to do?”

He flinches and Mr Graves sighs. “Fine.” He grabs Credence’s arm and they disapparate.

 

**II.**

Credence has only been at Mr Graves’ new apartment a handful of times. He stayed there, before Mr Graves sent him out to be his own person and he has been allowed to read there three times so far.

This marks the fourth.

“You need to learn something.”

Credence is looking at his knees. They’re sitting in the living room, sharing on couch. Credence is sitting as rigid as possible while Mr Graves is turned towards him, the leg closest to him slightly bent, so that the knee is resting on the couch.

“I’m doing my best, I promise!” he tries to excuse himself, but a finger on his lips shuts him up.

“I mean that we can forge documents and permits for you all we want, but you need to be convincing when you’re picked up by the Macusa. And you’re not a good liar are you?”

Credence shakes his head.

“So… what do you like to do? It doesn’t have to be something that you’re good at. You need to learn some basic skills and be convincing about it.”

“I don’t know.”

He has never been allowed to do something for fun ever before. He isn’t good at anything.

“Why don’t you think abou-“

“Can you decide?” he interrupts Mr Graves and cowers into himself. He cannot believe that he dared to do that.

“You want me to decide what job you learn?”

Credence nods.

When Mr Graves leans back and starts thinking, it feels like a big weight falls off his shoulders.

 

**III.**

“One chicken à la king coming right up. What for you, sir?” the waitress asks Credence and he feels himself freeze up. There are so many choices, so many things he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know what the best choice is and he doesn’t know how to make it.

“He’ll have the vegetable beef soup,” Mr Graves decides for him and Credence gives him a thankful smile. Mr Graves answers with raised eyebrows.

 

**IV.**

The next time Credence has to go out and buy a new jacket, a day after their hide-out had been found by Macusa and they had to leave the city, Mr Graves takes one look at the three suits the vendor has laid out for him and sends them all back.

Credence leaves the shop with a complete new wardrobe, completely decided and paid for by Mr Graves.

 

**V.**

“Where are you going?” Mr Graves asks as Credence puts his shoes on.

“The barbershop, sir.” Having his hair cut in the same way as always, isn’t his decision to make, so he doesn’t feel like he’s going to throw up. Mr Graves doesn’t seem to agree. He pushes his chair away from the table where he had been experimenting with something Credence doesn’t understand and motions him to come closer.

Credence follows the motion and stands awkwardly in front of him. At the raised eyebrow he kneels down, careful not to wrinkle the pants Mr Graves has bought for him. He looks up at Mr Graves and swallows. Somehow the position feels natural to him.

A big hand touches his hair, brushes the too long bangs out of the way and caresses the short hair at the back of his head. It’s so long that it doesn’t even look like there is some kind of cut in it anymore. So unlike Mr Graves’ finely cut hair.

“Don’t cut it.”

“Sir?”

“I like you better like this. Let it grow and have them even it out in a few weeks.”

“But-“

“Don’t backtalk me.”

Credence shuts up. He swallows. The thought of having to wear his hair like this around Mr Graves associates fills him with shame, but at the same time he feels flushed and … contend.

 

**+1**

In the last year Credence has learned that the thought of _I want_ is usually followed by an action taken by Mr Graves. An action that almost always benefits Credence and makes his life better. So much better, that he only rarely thinks about the fateful night where Mr Graves had abandoned him. People make mistakes. Credence knows he makes them all the time – even though Mr Graves is kind enough not to point them out.

But this time when he thinks _I want_ , nothing follows.

It happens in the morning, when Credence doesn’t know which tie to wear. The door to Mr Graves’ room is open and he is so focused on the ties that he doesn’t realise that he isn’t dressed yet.

Credence freezes, the ties still in his hand. Mr Graves is just slipping his shirt over his broad shoulders. Apart from that, he’s only wearing dark pants, the suspenders hanging from the back of them, his feet bare.

He must have made some kind of noise, because Mr Graves turns around to him. His shirt is open and while he’s wearing a shirt underneath, something akin to a lightning bolt goes through Credence.

 _I want_ , echoes through his mind. He doesn’t know what he wants, has repressed every desire he’s ever had for Mr Graves before it could have taken a form, just like his mother taught him.

“Ties,” he mumbles and Mr Graves gives him a look that tells him to come closer.

He shuffles closer and shows them to Mr Graves. “The dark grey one. We’re not going to a funeral.” Credence nods and is in the process of removing himself from the premise of these traitorous feelings when Mr Graves takes the tie from him.

He’s reminded of the time when Mr Graves put the necklace around his neck, all those months back. But this time he can name what he feels, this time he knows why his breath falters when Mr Graves’ dark scent reaches his nose.

Mr Graves looks down on him while he ties the knot around his neck and Credence looks away. He feels overheated suddenly and the close proximity only helps to make him more aware of his unwelcome feelings.

“There, all done,” Mr Graves says and lays one hand on his neck. Credence does his best not to flinch at the contact. Mr Graves’ hand feels hot against his skin and Credence takes a step back. For the first time since they’ve known each other, Credence leaves Mr Graves’ presence without another word.

 

He’s practicing his wand-skills when Mr Graves finds him two days later. So far Credence has exceeded in avoiding him, eating in his own room at the flat that he shares with Mr Graves, even though they’re both pretending it’s only temporary, pretending to catch up on all of the reading he had left to do. Mr Graves has let it happen. Credence isn’t sure if that’s because he respects Credence’s wish for privacy or if he is just busy, but he is thankful nonetheless.

“Flick your wand a bit more,” Mr Graves says from behind him and Credence swallows.

He tries again, but hits the wrong target. All of this had been easier before. When he only had to worry about not angering his mother. When he only had to worry about not hurting his siblings in the process of getting angry. When he hadn’t understood the power inside of him. The power that Mr Graves is teaching him to control, even though he is a lousy student.

“From your wrist.” Mr Graves steps closer, his body pressing against Credence’s from behind. He grabs his wrist gently, leading his hand the right way.

“Again.”

“E-Expeliarmus!”

The fake wand flies towards Credence and lands on the floor only a few feet away. Mr Graves is still holding his hand in his own. He swallows.

“Are you done hiding?”

“W-what?” he stutters and Mr Graves’ other hands starts to turn him around gently.

“I’ve given you enough room to work out whatever silly problem you have, Credence. But my patience has run thin.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” He’s never lied before. Mr Graves’ face hardens and for a moment Credence thinks he’s going to hit him – again – but then he steps back.

The skin where is hand has been just seconds ago feels cold.

“I do not take kindly to being lied to.”

Mr Graves’ leaves. And Credence feels like every bit of warmth has just been taken from his life.

 

It takes him hours to talk himself into it.

He slips out of his room and stops in his tracks. The flat they’re currently inhabiting isn’t as big as the one before, so he hasn’t quite grown used to walking immediately into the living room.

Mr Graves is still sitting on the couch, a book in his hand. He doesn’t look up when Credence enters the room, like he usually does and Credence hovers at the door, before walking further into the room. The carpet is scratchy under his bare feet and his hands are sweaty.

“Mr Graves?” he asks, standing next to the couch. He doesn’t get an immediate reaction. At some point he seems to be finished with the page or the chapter and puts it on the small table next to the couch. Mr Graves turns around to him and looks down at the couch. Thankful, Credence sits down, his fingers digging into his thighs.

“I wanted to apologise,” he begins and Mr Graves hums. “I shouldn’t have lied to you.”

“You’re right, you shouldn’t have.”

Credence looks up and swallows. Mr Graves is looking at him, but there’s no anger in his eyes, no disappointment. Curiosity and forgiveness maybe.

“I forgive you. Under the condition that you tell me why you have been behaving so weird.”

Credence wants to look away again, but Mr Graves puts two fingers under his chin and forces him to keep looking at him.

“Don’t you think we should be honest with each other?”

“I do.” There are things Mr Graves doesn’t tell him, but Credence has long learnt to not concern himself with them. He isn’t being lied to – or at least he thinks he isn’t.

“Then tell me.”

He can’t. Even though so far Mr Graves has given him everything he had desired, he knows this isn’t something a man like Mr Graves can just give him.

“I can’t,” he whispers. Even though Mr Graves’ fingers are under his chin, he somehow manages to pull Credence closer to him. With his head and neck bent forward, the position is as uncomfortable as it gets, but Credence doesn’t dare to slide closer.

“I thought I gave you an order.” Mr Graves’ voice is full of authority, the one he usually reserves for the other people around him. Credence had never realised what would happen if it was used against him. How it would make him feel. He craves _more_.

He swallows and looks away from Mr Graves’ eyes. For the fraction of a second his eyes drop to Mr Graves’ lips, asking himself what it would be like to kiss someone, to be kissed. He looks away as soon as he can, but his head is forced up again soon enough.

“Is that what you want?” he is asked and he swallows. He starts to pull away, but Mr Graves’ other hand pulls him forward on the couch until they are right up in each other’s personal space.

“I’m sorry.” He ruined it. He ruined everything. He is sick. Exploiting the trust of someone who has done his best to help him. Fantasising about Mr Graves like Credence doesn’t owe him his life and his sanity. Dirtying him with his shameful cravings.

“For what?” Mr Graves asks him. They’re close enough that he can feel Mr Graves’ hot breathe on his lips and he shivers.

He doesn’t get a chance to answer Mr Graves’ question, because the small distance between their lips suddenly disappears, when Mr Graves presses his mouth on his. The kiss is short, barely more than a short touch of one mouth on the other, but when it’s done Credence feels like he can’t breathe, like his heart is going to stop at any second.

He opens his eyes when Mr Graves chuckles. “What are you afraid of, Credence?”

He’s at loss for words. But then Mr Graves kisses him again and all thoughts are banished from his mind.

“When I first met you, didn’t I tell you that I would give you everything you desired?”

Credence dares himself to smile.

**Author's Note:**

> hey look i'm alive and i can even post stuff. as always follow me on [tumblr](http://everknowing.tumblr.com/) if you want.


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